Windmills of Time
by Lupins Lair
Summary: A montage spanning seventeen years depicting the kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions portrayed by Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and (briefly) James Potter as they live through the events covering the period from 1978 to 1995.
1. The Way We Were James

**Disclaimer:** Everything mentioned here belongs to J.K. Rowling and her fantastic imagination, Supplier Extraordinaire of fodder for all my fanfic dabblings.

**Summary: **This is a montage depicting the kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions portrayed by Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and (briefly) James Potter as they live through the events covering the period from 1978 to 1995.

**Author's Notes: **As the chapters for this fic turned out to be a lot longer than I initially had expected, I am dividing a full chapter into several shorter ones. Hence the explanation for several instalments here listed under the same name.

For the purpose of my fic, I have given James and Lily a Christian wedding. This is only because I am the most familiar with this religion. I am in no way stating for certain that James and Lily were Christians, **_nor am I proclaiming it is the only religion that is worthwhile._ **The quote about love is from St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians 13:4-10. The description of the wedding procession, as well as the wedding vows were found on 

**Windmills of time**

Do you know where you're going to

Do you like the things that life is showing you

Where are you going to

Do you know?

-- From "Mahogany"

**Chapter one - The Way We Were**

  
21st June, 1978

A light, hazy breeze sifted through the trees, gently rustling the leaves and providing a welcome whiff of cool air in the midst of a balmy summer's day. They have had superb weather so far this year – bright sunshine, clear skies, with barely a hint of showers.

On this day, a young man was observed pacing the grounds of an old, stone church. A hint of anxiety could be detected in his brisk step, and he was seemingly oblivious to the beautifully manicured gardens with its neatly trimmed lawns – its grass young, green and tender – and the brightly coloured flowerbeds lining its borders.

For James Potter, today was the most important day in his life. It was a day he wouldn't have given a moment's thought to at eleven; wouldn't have dreamt truly possible at fifteen; and didn't dare hope could ever come about even as recent as the beginning of the year.

It was the day he was to marry Lily Evans.

Just the thought of her name caused James' heart to skip a beat. Lily never failed to produce such an effect on him. It was a miracle in more ways than one that today had come about. At the (surely very grown-up) age of eleven, James had paid no attention whatsoever to the opposite sex. Girls, he had thought most assuredly, were purely made to giggle, and their sole existence on this earth was to annoy the hell out of the (very much mature) male population.

James sniggered at his pre-pubescent precocious-ness as his thoughts drifted a few years onwards along the memory lane. He smirked as he saw himself at fifteen. He had noticed girls by then. Oh yes. But they, at least the one he had showed an interest in, had hated him with a vengeance. What was it she had said? 'I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.' Yeah, that was it. Looking back, James grudgingly agreed with her. Of course, she is always right! He supposed he had been a bit of a jerk back then.

Fast forward a couple of years, the pictures of him and Lily Evans as Head Boy and Girl at Hogwarts floated before him. By then, the girl who had preferred the giant squid to his pathetic existence had mellowed out regarding him. Remus, dry and curt as he always was, had constantly remarked the change had occurred more on James' end, when he had finally attempted to pare down his swollen ego following six years of strutting about the school corridors.

Upon finishing at Hogwarts however, it had not been the lack of love or romance which had stilted their hopes for a wedding. Times had rapidly become darker, tenser. The continued rise of the much feared Dark Lord Voldemort had quelled any hopes for a normal family life. People avoided much personal commitment for fear of hurt and loss should one die, leaving loved ones behind with a hollow in need of filling. Those who did treasure commitment barely found the time to rejoice and indulge in it. For the rare couple who did procure a wedding, they were hesitant in starting a family, not wishing to bring a future generation into a harsh uncertain world.

Times were bleak, and one lived in fear. The promise of a warm, loving, stable family was but a distant improbable dream for all.

Despite the fragile state of hope and peace amid these times, James and Lily had decided to seize the moment, this chance they had, and to relish in the fact that happiness and love could exist even in the gloomiest of times. Or perhaps, happiness and love existed so strongly because of these dark times. James hazarded a guess that he appreciated his luck much more now he had learnt of just how precarious human joy and life was.

The groom glanced at his watch. Twenty past eleven. He had only been pacing for ten minutes. It had seemed like an eternity. There was still twenty minutes – twenty l-o-n-g minutes – before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. Nerves eroded the lining of his stomach as he tried to still his hands from wringing involuntarily. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a thong of Lily's friends and relatives noisily making their way up the stone steps to the entrance of the chapel. Their loud laughter and joyous exclamations rang clearly through the air and across the grounds to where James stood. James was debating whether to be a polite host and head over to greet them when a shout cut across his thoughts.

"So there you are! You've been hiding from us then, Prongs?" There was a trace of cheeky amusement in Padfoot's voice.

James turned to find Sirius, Remus and Peter slipping out of the back door of the church and cutting across the grounds to meet him.

"We were wondering where you'd gone, mate," said Peter. "You gave us the slip."

"The guy probably wants to have some alone time, away from three jealous, mischievous Marauders," offered Remus calmly, but his eyes were twinkling.

James flashed a quick grin and nodded. "Of course," he replied, finding his voice now he was surrounded by familiar faces, ones which did not belong to whom he was about to marry. "Anyone would need a break from you lot."

Sirius and Peter looked highly affronted.

"Hey!"

"Jealous? Us? Why would we be jealous of Prongs wedding a gorgeous red-haired, green-eyed beauty who could hex you into oblivion?"

"So, have you seen Lily yet?" asked Remus, ignoring the mock indignation of the other two.

James shook his head. "No," he replied, glancing at Lily's Muggle parents standing by the chapel entrance. There was a thin, sour-faced lady alongside them. Petunia Evans looked as if a funeral would have been more delightful to attend.

"No," he repeated, turning back to Remus. "Those Muggles have this funny tradition that the groom must not see the bride before the wedding. It's supposed to bring bad luck or something." He shrugged.

Sirius raised his eyebrows so far up they disappeared into his fringe. 

"But surely Prongs, you and Lily are anything but traditional, even by wizard standards. If I recall correctly, you proposed to Lily after having your skull split open by a Bludger, while she had been covered with Erin's sick as she'd projectile vomited all over Lily upon seeing the blood."

"It wasn't the most cavalier scenario," admitted James, grinning sheepishly. He hoped the others wouldn't bring up the fact that he had been less than coherent that day either, what with that head injury. 

"Lily did say she found it strangely romantic," he added uselessly at Peter's scoff.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "She was just saying that to protect your delicate ego, Prongs."

"Lily doesn't care to protect James' ego, Sirius," said Remus. Then off Sirius' and Peter's looks, "except that sometimes she does do that," he finished solemnly, without a flicker that betrayed he had originally thought otherwise.

"Stop bullying Moony into agreeing with you!" James commanded Sirius and Peter. "Remus, you know better than to let them change your mind for you," he said accusingly.

"I know better than to go against someone who can make my life a living hell through the application of practical jokes," answered Remus.

"Oh, you mean Wormtail?" said Sirius brightly, at once. 

"Yes, Padfoot. Of course," Remus clipped dryly. "One would never implicate it would be you."

At that moment, they were joined by Mr and Mrs Potter.

"Son, you ready?" James' father asked. "It's about to begin."

James felt a lurch within the mid-regions of his stomach. He was ushered by his parents and friends into the chapel. The organist was already playing the prelude music – Pachebel's Canon in D – and excited chatter was filling up the church. As James and Sirius, the best man, made their way up to the altar, the hum of nattering died down abruptly. James cast a nervous smile at his parents as they seated themselves in the front row. 

The organist then skilfully merged from Pachebel's Canon to Mendelssohn's Wedding March. At this point, Remus and Peter, acting as groomsmen, joined them, up near the altar. Glancing at those gathered inside the chapel, however nervous he was, James couldn't help feeling extremely proud, extremely contented and extremely thankful that he could experience such an occasion. He was to finally wed Lily, and could share the moment with his family and best friends. The fear and darkness that had shrouded the wizarding world for the past eight years was for the moment forgotten, and in its place was a juncture of pure joy and hope. He felt a shiver trickling down his spine, and goose bumps crawl all over his skin as he saw first, the bridesmaids, then the ring bearer and flower girl, and finally Lily, led by her father, walking down the aisle. James felt fit to burst, despite a quivering which threatened to cause his legs to give way from underneath him. It was an excitement, an eagerness and an anxiety akin to that of an adrenaline rush before Quidditch finals. But amplified over a thousand times.

It was indescribable.

When Lily reached him (it felt like both an age and a blink of an eye at the same time), they made their way up to the altar together. The priest looked at them and smiled.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in Paradise, and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined."

He paused. 

"Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

When no one raised their hand or voiced out loud, the priest continued.

"Wilt the have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt the love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

James swallowed hard to prevent his words, albeit all of two syllables, tumble over one another.  

"I will."

The priest then turned to Lily and asked her the same question. Looking directly into James's eyes with her own emerald ones, she stated firmly,

"I will."

James' heart was beating harder than the wings of a struggling Snitch in a Seeker's grip. He willed his voice to steady.

"I, James Tobias Potter, take you Lily Kathryn Evans, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. 

I will cherish our friendship and love you today, tomorrow, and forever. 

I will trust you and honour you. 

I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will love you faithfully. 

Through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. 

What may come I will always be there. 

As I have given you my hand to hold, 

So I give you my life to keep. So help me God."

James dared not look up into the faces of his parents, nor at his friends standing a few feet away from him at the altar. He could sense the emotion thickening inside the chapel without gauging anyone's expressions. He tried to clear his mind of the mounting sentiments welling up through him as Lily returned her vows in the clear voice he had grown to love. As she neared the end, James took a deep breath, and fighting to placate the tremor in his voice, he joined Lily.

"Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you, 

For where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay 

Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.

And where you die, I will die and there I will be buried.

May the Lord do with me and more if anything but death parts you from me."

As they finished their vows, James stole a peek at those close by. His mother had tears in her eyes, a look of fierce pride in her face. As did his dad. Turning his gaze to the side, he saw Peter hastily brush away a tear. Remus and Sirius looked pretty choked up with emotion themselves.

James' hand shook as he slipped the wedding ring upon Lily's finger. The priest's words echoed in their ears as the two moved in for their kiss.

"Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love is eternal. There are inspired messages, but they are temporary; there are gifts of speaking in strange tongues, but they will cease; there is knowledge, but it will pass. For our gifts of knowledge and inspired messages are only partial; but when what is perfect comes, then what is partial will disappear." 

A huge joyous roar erupted as the couple sealed their vows with an intense kiss. As the procession made their way out through the doors of the church, a familiar figure made its way towards the newly-weds.

"My heartiest congratulations to you, James and Lily," said Albus Dumbledore sincerely. 

"Professor!" cried Lily in delight. "So glad you could come. We thought you were away in Spain to deal with the Minster of Magic there."

"Still polite and respectful after leaving Hogwarts I see," chuckled Dumbledore. "Albus would do, Lily. We are working together on the Order after all. And yes, I am supposed to be in Spain, but I did not wish to miss today. I just wanted to offer you my blessings before I dash off. Good day, Mr and Mrs James Potter."

And with a wink, the Headmaster Disapparated silently before Lily's Muggle relations even noticed the wizard's presence.

"Well, well, well, Mr and Mrs James Potter. You do attract the most distinguished guests," teased Sirius coming up to the couple, with Remus and Peter in tow.

James and Lily exchanged amused looks.

"Yes," concurred James. " I guess we do."

~ * ~


	2. The Way We Were Sirius

**Disclaimer:** Everything mentioned here belongs to J.K. Rowling and her fantastic imagination, Supplier Extraordinaire of fodder for all my fanfic dabblings.

**Author's Notes:** To Ishizu Sango Halliwell, thanks for the cookies! :-)

**Windmills of Time** Chapter One - The Way We Were 

March, 1979

Easter was approaching, but life was far from the theme of renewal the holiday symbolised. In fact, there wasn't to even be a holiday for Sirius Black. Being an Auror during times of war meant you had to sacrifice your personal life. Sirius had been working twenty-hour days ever since he had completed his Auror training a month ago. Under normal circumstances, the training would have taken at least half a year more, but with the dire situation the Light side currently was in, the severe shortage of Aurors (what with numerous members being victims of Death Eater attacks each week) combined with Sirius' natural aptitude for the profession, he had been awarded his license ahead of time. 

It was dark as Sirius slinked along one of the dark alleyways that snaked through the labyrinth of unkempt, dilapidated buildings which populated the inner city slums of poorer London. The putrid melange of scuttling rats, dirty stagnant water, urine stench and damp rot was overpowering. Sirius tried to smother his nasal passages with a handkerchief as he hastened his pace in his ardent urge to get away from the gloomy atmosphere. He dared not Disapparate as he knew there were Death Eaters lurking within the filthy maze, and the popping sound, as silent as he would try to make it, would alert them to the presence of an intruder. No doubt if he was heard, the Aurors would be on the receiving end of another unexpected ambush. They had just lost seven of their kind in the past week, in two different raids. Among them were Gideon and Fabian Prewett, two valued members of Dumbledore's underground network – the Order of the Phoenix, who had heroically fought off five of Voldemort's most subservient minions, one of them being the formidable Antonin Dolohov.

Once out of detection range from the shadows roaming the warren of derelict housing, Sirius Apparated to the Potters' home just on the outskirts of Cambridge. Knowing that Lily was fanatical about stationing protective wards around the house, Sirius stood out at the gates and hollered at the top of his voice.

"Hey, Prongs you ole git! Let me in here, will you?"

Sirius saw the light come on in the hallway, and a moment later, James' head poked out the front door. 

"Padfoot! Geez, keep that racket down will you? People do live around here, you know." But he was grinning.

He disabled the wards his wife had cast around the house (it took the good part of five minutes) and beckoned Sirius into the hallway. Lily appeared out of the kitchen and gave him a warm welcome. 

"Hello Sirius. Are you off duty?" Sirius nodded. "Good. You are just in time for dinner."

"Lily's made shepherd's pie tonight, with roast potatoes and vegetables," James informed Sirius. "Trust me, it's as good as Hogwarts cooking."

"Ah," enthused Sirius, rubbing his hands together. "I do commend myself on my impeccable timing."

*

"You seem to have a gorgeous cosy set-up here Prongs," commented Sirius approvingly a short while later as he eyed the furniture and tasteful décor of the dining room. 

Lily bustled in with the last of the dishes and sat herself down beside James. 

"All my doing," she told Sirius proudly. "Should never trust a man with this sort of work. You see that eyesore over there?" She pointed to where a small statue of an abstract subject stood in the corner. 

Sirius screwed up a face as he saw the hodgepodge of vivid colours splashed haphazardly over it. The colours clashed horribly.

"Him," Lily said simply, jerking her head towards James.

"It's art!" protested James. "Muggle art. Like Picasso."

Sirius let a bark of laughter. "Picasso was a genius. His were masterpieces. This," he waved his hand in the direction of the statue, "is replicated junk."

James shot him a huffy look. 

"To continue what I was saying Lily," Sirius went on, paying no heed to Prongs, "I have to say I am so impressed with this place! I know I haven't been visiting recently, due to the work at the Ministry, but still. The two of you have done a wonderful job in a short space of time."

"Thanks," said Lily happily. "My parents helped out a bit, so did James'. We are also very lucky that James, you know— "

Sirius nodded. "I am sure the prize money from all those Quidditch victories help a lot." He sighed theatrically. "I really should have practised as a Beater instead of volunteering to get my arse kicked in Auror training every day." 

James blushed slightly, as he has come to do so each time the teasing about his Quidditch earnings came up. 

"We have a good team," he conceded, "and Derek Perry coached me well back in my Hogwarts days."

Sirius dropped his fork with a clatter and stared at James in shock. 

"Prongs! You are humble! Where did your ego go?"

"Oh, it's still around in full force," answered Lily airily for him, her eyes dancing in amusement. "He just keeps it in check in my presence."

James muttered something inaudible under his breath as he speared up a broccoli floret and thrust it roughly into his mouth. 

"Lily's not half bad either," he said gruffly after a few moments' silence as he chomped on the vegetable. "They are well pleased with her work at the Ministry so they are. Pays her a pretty penny for those charms and wards and hexes she comes up with." 

Sirius wasn't surprised to hear this. Lily had always steamrolled past any other student in Charms back in her school days, no matter how hard James and Sirius had tried to topple her from that sweet spot. They had been able to top every class save Flitwick's. And now as a worker in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, she had made her mark in her expertise to cast powerful reversal spells and Obliviating charms, and her presence was often demanded throughout various departments within the Ministry.

The three friends continued their light banter over dinner. Relaxed, joking around, just like the old days back in the Gryffindor common room. They reminisced over the instances when James and Sirius had angered McGonagall to such an extent that the Professor set her glasses askew as she brandished a finger at the culprits in her fury. The memories of those much-awaited for Hogsmeade trips where they would splurge their Galleons, Sickles and Knuts in Honeydukes, Zonko's and butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

"Would you want to stay the night?" James asked Sirius as they stood up to clear the table. "You can have the spare bedroom."

Sirius was sorely tempted by the preposition. 

"Well…" he began. 

James guessed his friend's hesitancy. 

"I'll tell Longbottom you are here with us," he offered. "In case he needs to contact you."

"That'd be smashing," thanked Sirius. 

Sirius followed James into the kitchen to inform Lily, who was charming the dishes to wash themselves while humming to a tune on WWN. 

"Great!" she said, as she Magicked the last of the dishes into the cupboard and stuck her wand back within the folds of her robes. "Well, how about a game of – " 

But what game she had intended to suggest James and Sirius never found out as her sentence was rudely cut short by the piercing wail of a siren reverberating from the living room. 

The three raced into the room beside them, and there, on a map of Britain that was stretched across the wall of the Potters' living room, was a bright red light flashing like a beacon. 

The map had been Remus' idea. It was a spin-off of their Marauder's Map, whereby it showed a rough network of the main roads and sites around Britain, with the various locations of the members of the Order scattered throughout the country. As with the Marauders Map, coloured dots representing each Order member trickled back and forth the isle as the members went about their business. Mad-Eye Moody had then charmed each dot to emit a warning tone and blinking lights should the person it represented head into any trouble.

A dot was flashing vividly now, and the persistent screeching filled the house. Sirius peered at the map and saw that the dot was labelled 'Dorcas Meadowes'.

He turned back to look at James, who had turned the colour of hospital sheets. 

"James?"

Without uttering even so much as a word, his friend had Disapparated. Sirius and Lily stared at the empty space where he had stood just a second ago in shock. Turning back to the map, Sirius now saw a tiny dot labelled 'James Potter' hovering near where the beacon was still flickering.

"JAMES!" howled Sirius.

He and Lily exchanged tacit looks and both Disapparated in suite. 

Sirius nearly Apparated on top of James, who was crouching behind a hedge that lined the front lawn of Dorcas Meadowes' house. A second later, a faint 'pop' told him that Lily had joined them. 

Acrid smoke curling through the air asphyxiated Sirius as he forced himself to keep from choking out loud. His eyes were getting watery from the stinging caused by the pungent aroma of the polluted air. 

"What happened?" he asked as James pulled him down from the view of some shadows that were skimming round the sides of the house. "Is she okay?"

"We were too late," James answered bitterly, and he pointed up at the inky sky.

A chill swept over Sirius as he saw with a sinking heart, that suspended over the burning house was a mammoth skull with a snake slithering through it like a tongue, wreathed in a mist of sickly green smoke, glittering as if made from emerald stars.

The Dark Mark.

"Meadowes," he uttered faintly.

"Dead," came James' flat reply. "I arrived just in time to catch the green bolt of lightning zip across her living room. Just in time to hear her screams…."

The cynical feeling of defeat and helplessness flooded Sirius. A figure was moving inside the house, and from the thick swirls of grey smog emerged a tall, robed wizard. He was thin and moved stealthily with a snake-like grace. 

Voldemort.

Sirius forgot himself and in his hot-headedness, charged up towards the enemy. He could hear Lily screaming with terror in the background, and James' spluttered heed of warning. But he didn't care. Hadn't he done enough? Hadn't the Dark wizard done enough to terrorise the community? Hadn't he killed enough people to put his life payments permanently in the negative column? Hadn't he caused enough damage and pain and suffering already?

The Dark Lord was nothing if not surprised by the sudden attack, but recovered almost instantly. He raised his wand, eyes glinting in a cold, maniacal manner. 

"Ava— "

To Sirius, it seemed as if everything sank a notch in gear. The crackling from the fire engulfing the Meadowes house dulled; the etching of the Dark Mark against the velvet sky blurred; the screams and shouts of terror grew muffled. Voldemort's actions appeared to be in slow motion. 

And Sirius couldn't move his legs.

"PROTEGO!" 

Sirius fell to the ground, his wind knocked out of him. Suddenly, everything returned to its regular pace. The sharp crackling of the fire before him; the clear imprint of the Dark Mark against the sky; the frenzied screams and shouts; the thick smoke enveloping him, choking him.

James had thrown him onto the ground and had cast a protection shield over the two of them. Sirius could barely get his bearings straight when he saw the shield dissolving before his very eyes. 

"Lily! Disapparate! Go!" He heard James bellow.

Then, as the Dark Lord raised his yew wand once more, Sirius felt himself being whisked away.

*

"Padfoot?" came a voice from far away.

Sirius blinked. And blinked again. 

He was back in the Potters' living room. The map was now silent, and the dot that had once been labelled 'Dorcas Meadowes' had long since faded away.

Sirius didn't want to revert back to reality. He didn't want to face the fact that yet another member of the Order, yet another friend, was gone. Dead. At the hands of the Dark Lord. He closed his eyes again and wished he could have some of Madam Pomfrey's potion for dreamless sleep. 

"Padfoot, you okay?" came James' voice once more.

Sirius mumbled something incoherently. If anything, just to stop James from asking such a rhetorical question. Of course he wasn't okay!

"You nearly got yourself killed!" James' voice was harsher now, frightened.

Sirius ignored him.

"What happened to you?" James now demanded.

Sirius shrugged. He caught James' expression and softened slightly. He at least owed Prongs an explanation for his behaviour.

"I don't know," he said finally. "I felt so… so angry all of a sudden. Like why. Why is he doing all this? What's the point? I got so worked up emotionally, I guess I just froze."

"Sorry," he added, after a few moments' silence.

"It's okay, Padfoot," sighed James. "At least we got away."

"You were pretty impressive standing up to Voldemort," remarked Sirius. And he meant it.

James' mouth sealed in a thin, firm line.

"And it probably won't be the last," he said grimly.

~ * ~


	3. The Way We Were Peter

**Disclaimer:** Everything mentioned here belongs to J.K. Rowling and her fantastic imagination, Supplier Extraordinaire of fodder for all my fanfic dabblings.

**Author's Notes:** This is a Peter-centric instalment, and he would continue to feature prominently in this story. He is also portrayed in a sympathetic light. So to all those who abhor the man and wishes to have nothing to do with him, you have been warned. Alternatively, if you are still interested, do read on and I hope that you may get converted yet.

**Windmills of Time** Chapter one - The Way We Were 

November 1979

It was well into the wee hours of the morning before Peter arrived at the front door to the block of grey London flats where he lived. Really, the wrong side of midnight to be getting home, he grumbled to himself.

But such was the way of life these days. There was so much paperwork to be processed each day at the Ministry, especially in his department – the Department of Magical Deaths and their Causes. Peter found it rather morbid to say the least to be working in such an office during the height of a war. It had been rather disconcerting at first to have seen numerous names, names belonging to people whom he had known, end up filling his in-tray on his desk. There had been the Prewetts, Meadowes, the Robertsons, the Bones…

Over the past few months, Peter had learnt to shut down his emotions as he dealt with his daily work. He had to, or he would have cracked under the emotional strain of it all. The subject matter was draining enough as it was.

His thoughts drifted to Derek Perry. His name had found its way to Wormtail's desk that particular day. Perry had been the Gryffindor Quidditch captain for four of the seven years Peter had been at Hogwarts. James especially, had revered him, claiming him to have been the best coach one could have gotten. The report had stated that Perry had been killed while being caught in crossfire between a group of Aurors and Death Eaters in a pub up in York. 

Peter wondered if James had heard the news yet.

Heaving a leaden sigh, Peter chased the thought out of his mind as he focused on disabling the wards protecting the flats. Taking care to re-set them upon entry into the building, he slowly dragged himself up two flights of stairs to his flat on the second floor, turned the key in the lock and stepped into the darkened room.

"Lumos," he muttered. The tip of his wand ignited and he went about lighting some of the lamps that lay about the flat. 

As he prepared for his shower, he heard ole Stormy (no one knew his real name), who lived on the ground floor come home, belting out a song at the top of his lungs. The singing was so off-kilter Peter couldn't decipher the melody or the words. His neighbour was permanently inebriated. Wormtail was used to seeing the tippler swaggering home on a nightly basis, bellowing raucously. He was harmless really, though Peter admitted the nocturnal attempts at opera were at times irritating if he was trying to sleep.

Peter cast his eyes over to the clock on the mantelpiece as he wrapped a dressing gown round himself following a quick nip in the shower.

It was two-forty two in the morning.

Another five hours, and he would have to be back in his office.

Downstairs, Stormy was still singing. Loudly. Very loudly. 

Peter was about to shout down to him out the window to shut it when his heart skipped several beats and he froze in his tracks.

There, standing in the centre of his living room, tall, dark and silent, were three Death Eaters.

Peter opened his mouth, but no sound came out. A gasp was stuck in his throat.

"Greetings, Mr Pettigrew," said the Death Eater in the middle. His tone was calm, soft. Polite even. 

Despite the door and windows being shut, Peter felt the temperature in the room plummet several degrees.

"I suppose you must be wondering the circumstances regarding this house call?" asked the same Death Eater, filling the silence.

Still Peter neither spoke nor moved. Not only could he not physically speak or move, he found he had no intention to negotiate with Voldemort's brethren. He remained tenaciously mute. 

The Death Eater (Peter assumed he was the leader out of the three) was not deterred.

"We wish for you to join us, Mr Pettigrew."

The words filtered through Peter's ears but they made no sense. Instead, when he found his voice a fraction later, he demanded (rather rudely in his mind),

"H-how did you get in h-here?"

"Apparated, my friend."

Peter flinched at being referred to as a 'friend' by the Dark wizard.

"There are wards around this b-building!" he countered, surprising himself with his boldness.

He could see the two Death Eaters flanking their leader shift impatiently and could almost picture them rolling their eyes underneath their hoods.

"There were none," their leader told Peter coolly.

Damn ole Stormy! Peter thought furiously. He must have left the wards down after coming in. Drat that drunken bastard!

As there was nothing to say in reply to the lack of security, Peter held his tongue.

"Would you care to come away with us, Mr Pettigrew? The Dark Lord awaits."

Peter's head snapped up and he forced himself to face the cloaked figure towering before his own short stature. He bit his tongue in an effort to steady himself before replying.

"No," he said. "Sorry," he added as an afterthought in an attempt to break the tensioned silence that had descended upon the living room. And to maintain the current civility the Death Eaters had been displaying towards him so far, though why they were extending him courtesy above and beyond the norm baffled him.

The Death Eater to the left clicked his tongue impatiently. He and the other on the right retreated into the shadows of the room where the flickering lamp light could not reach them. The negotiator remained in his spot.

"You choose to decline this offer, my friend?" he questioned calmly, his tone betraying none of his emotions.

"Y-y-yes," stammered Peter. Just go away, he thought desperately to himself. Leave me alone!

"I do not deny that you have valour," remarked his tempter, a filigree of subtle approval delicately lacing through his voice. "It comes as no surprise you were placed in Gryffindor."

What?

"How did you— " began Peter when the Death Eater cut him off.

"We know things, dear friend. The Dark Lord knows all."

His words, chilling and haunting, hung invisible in the air.

Peter felt an ice-cold shiver dribble down his spine. He wished for Sirius' bravery at that moment. Sirius, who never lacked in courage and who would be able to defend himself much more competently than Wormtail was doing now.

The thought of Sirius made Peter think of what his friends would do if they were in his situation right now.

"No," Peter said, more firmly this time. "P-p-please leave," he continued as brusquely as he could, emphasised with what he hoped was not a feeble gesture towards the door.

Wormtail sensed what must have been intense scorn directed at him through three pairs of masked stony eyes. He fought hard against his ardent urge to bolt.

"Our Master does not look kindly on noncompliance, little man." One of the back-up Death Eaters finally spoke up, vitriol saturating in his voice. He and the third of the Death Eaters slunk back into the light. "He values deference."

"He is not my Master!" cried Peter recklessly. He knew if he paused to analyse the situation, he would be far too unnerved to stand his ground.

"Pity," murmured the leader in a low, mysterious tone, with the slightest tinge of underlying sneer. "The Dark Lord treats his faithful well. He would have been so pleased with you."

The last comment completely threw Peter for a loop. He felt flustered, but hurriedly banished the comment from his mind. 

"G-go to h-hell," he retorted, the words shooting forth from his mouth before he could engage his brain. Years of being in close proximity to Sirius had engrained certain colourful phrases into his subconscious.

The two lackeys made to tackle Peter, but their leader held up his hand and aborted any action instantly. He surveyed the paunchy wizard before him, and Peter could feel an invisible pair of eyes boring into him like laser beams.

"Very well, suit yourself," the Death Eater said mildly, still preserving utmost civility in his manner of voice. "But should you ever change your mind, Mr. Pettigrew, do not hesitate to inform us."

Peter thought he heard a snicker come from the direction of one of the back-up Death Eaters. It's just your imagination, he told himself sternly. It looked as if the Death Eaters would be leaving him unscathed. He was thankful. He wanted them gone now.

The three Death Eaters gathered round the centre of the living room where Peter had initially spotted them.

"Thank you for your time," acknowledged the leader.

Peter thought it a rather twisted show of gratitude. 

The Death Eater flicked his wand.

A thick heavy cloud of black smoke snaked out from the tip and encircled Peter. Peter tried desperately to escape from its suffocating grasp and the pungent smell, but he remained rooted to the ground. The ominous haze looped forebodingly round his head, and he could feel it infiltrating him through his eyes, his nostrils, his ears and his mouth. It arrested his breath, causing him to splutter, and for a brief moment, Peter thought he would choke to death.

Upon recovering, he drew himself to his full height in readiness to shoot an accusatory look at the Death Eaters, but found he was glaring into empty space. The three figures had Disapparated as clandestinely as they had come.

Wormtail shivered. He was cold, but not from the wintry November weather. He screwed up his courage (Gryffindor courage indeed!) and went about his flat, lighting every lamp and fearfully searching for the presence of any more Death Eaters lurking amid the shadows. 

There were none.

Peter set up triple the wards around his flat that night, though he dared not step out of the confines of his flat to enable those wards which surrounded the building itself. He tumbled into his bed, but despite his bone exhaustion, he could not drift off to sleep until ages later. And even then, the slumber had been fitful, with shadows flitting in and out of his dreams.

Wormtail was extremely relieved when his alarm rang at seven o' clock. It was the first time in his life that Peter Pettigrew was thankful he had only been given three hours' worth of sleep.

~ * ~


	4. The Way We Were Remus

**Disclaimer:** Everything mentioned here belongs to J.K. Rowling and her fantastic imagination, Supplier Extraordinaire of fodder for all my fanfic dabblings.

**Summary: **This is a montage depicting the kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions portrayed by Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and (briefly) James Potter as they live through the events covering the period from 1978 to 1995.

**Windmills of Time** Chapter one - The Way We Were 

Christmas Eve, 1979

The city centre was bustling with wizards and Muggles alike, all out to complete their last minute shopping in readiness for Christmas the following day. Remus was amused to learn that accomplishing tasks at the eleventh-hour was not solely confined to wizards as he heard a Muggle teen announce to her shopping mate that she had only just begun her quest for present hunting late that morning. Remus silently wished her good luck in obtaining the stuff she needed for her twenty-seven friends in the chaos that called itself town.

Despite the plethora of reminders one had scribbled on their foot-long task lists, the majority of those thronging the streets of Edinburgh had plans to return to their cosy homes before darkness fell. 

For the Muggles, it was because they wished to spend Christmas Eve at home with their family; gathered by a crackling fire with chocolates and sweets, laughing amongst themselves as they watched a Muggle contraption called a television. People also wished to return to their kitchens to prepare the turkey, stuffing and sherry trifles in readiness for the following day's family dinner. Take-away outlets were thriving with business as shoppers opted for the convenience of ready-cooked meals on this particular evening.

For the wizards however, their reason for wishing to have an early day was much more sombre. As Death Eaters had taken to happening upon unsuspecting civilians as well as prominent Ministry members at night, people have been warned to stay indoors with the proper protection wards once past nightfall. It made for a restricted, dreary lifestyle as nightfall occurred as early as half past three at this time of the year, but they all knew it was in their best interests to heed the Minister's warning. The nightly attacks by the Dark Side were a caveat as to what could easily happen to anyone. Christmas for nearly the past decade had not been the delightful, comforting and warm affair it symbolised. Each Christmas just seemed to get darker and bleaker than that the previous year as Voldemort increasingly dominated the wizarding world and cast fear, trepidation and division among the magical community.

Remus briefly revelled in the nostalgic moments of blissful Christmases prior to the emergence of the Dark Lord before entering a small, quaint shop called Thornton's – a renowned Muggle establishment which could possibly rival Hogsmeade's Honeydukes for fine chocolate specimens. He browsed around the clustered shelves for several pondering moments before making his choice on a beautifully gift-wrapped box of Belgian pralines. 

Handing over the Muggle money for the chocolates, he exited the shop, slipped into a deserted alleyway and surreptitiously Disapparated with a faint 'pop'.

He appeared in the outskirts of Cambridge, and found himself standing just by the hedge lining the Potters' fence surrounding their house. He wondered what wards Lily had construed over the place, and was debating whether or not to chance disabling them with the most commonly used spells when the front door of the house flung open and Sirius stood framed in the entrance.

"Moony!" he cried exuberantly. "Merry Christmas mate!"

Lily appeared beside him in the doorway smiling as she wiped her hands on an apron tied round her waist. Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, she pulled out her wand and proceeded to deftly disable the invisible wards enacted over the residence. 

Remus smiled as he made his way past the front lawn and up to the door. 

"Merry Christmas to you too Padfoot," he said as he was welcomed by a bear-like hug from Sirius. "And to you Lily," he added as he extricated himself from Sirius' grip. 

He pulled out the box of Thornton's chocolates from one of the shopping bags he held in his hand and presented them to Lily.

"Thanks for inviting me," he said, handing her the confectionary as he stepped into the Potters' hallway.

"Oh Remus, you shouldn't have!" exclaimed Lily, but Remus could see her eyes light up at the sight of the pralines. James had often informed his friends of his wife's weakness for such sweets.

"Shouldn't have what?" came a voice behind them.

"Prongs!" greeted Remus jovially. 

"Hey Moony!" James turned back to Lily. "Shouldn't have what?" he repeated.

Lily waved the Thornton's box before James' eyes. 

"Chocolate," nodded James approvingly. "Always welcomes." He turned to Remus as Lily shot him a disciplinary look. "Don't listen to her Moony. Silly female Muggle habits of false politeness." He ignored Lily's indignant cry. "Chocolate is always welcome in this house." 

"They are for Lily," Remus clarified, but not without a smile.

"We are married, so legally I own half the box," quipped James. "Come on in Remus. Want a drink? Mead? Butterbeer? Firewhiskey?"

  
Remus shrugged out of his thick winter cloak and hung it up on the cloak stand that stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to the first floor. 

"I wouldn't mind some apple cider if you have any," he said.

"Sure thing," answered James cheerily as he disappeared into the kitchen. Remus could hear the clinking of glass as his friend set about fixing him his drink.

"Is Peter not here yet?" he enquired as Lily ushered him into the cosy living room where a lively fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace. 

Sirius shook his head. "I think you ought to re-set those wards Lily," he reminded his host. "It's a pain to have to take them down again when Wormtail joins us, but better safe than sorry."

Lily complied while Remus watched with interest as the witch muttered spell after complex spell as she built up the protection. No sooner had she completed the tedious task of replacing the every one of the fourteen wards – her Divination friend Margaret, she told Remus, had refused to allow her use thirteen as she claimed the number to be the devil, so Lily ended repeating one of the wards twice – than a short, pale-faced wizard Apparated across the road from where they stood.

An exasperated curse escaped from Lily's lips. Remus, on the other hand, found the timing hilariously entertaining.

"Should we just let him work his way through those wards?" he suggested to the resigned witch beside him. "Upon success he gets a double shot of Doctor LeFeu's Firewhiskey."

Lily gave a tinkling laugh. "Unfortunately the Firewhiskey would be waiting for him until next year if that was the case," she chuckled. "Oh, I'm not implying anything other than the fact that these wards are my own and newly developed," she explained hurriedly off Remus' teasingly raised eyebrows. "So I doubt if anyone would be able to work their way through them." 

With an exaggerated sigh, she muttered the reversal spells to disable the wards yet again. Peter entered the house oblivious to the fact that Lily had just enabled and disabled a total of forty-two wards within the past fifteen minutes, and was just about to reset them all up again.

"There you are Wormtail! How about a drink?" cried James, turning up with Remus' apple cider. Remus accepted the drink gratefully and began to sip when he noticed Peter was looking paler and more drawn than usual. Must be the overtime at the Ministry, he thought to himself. That paperwork would get to anyone.

"A-A b-butterbeer would b-be g-g-great," replied Wormtail, his teeth chattering incessantly from the cold. Lily prodded him into the living room and settled him by the fire.

"So, any news from London?" asked Sirius. 

A smidgen of colour drained from Peter's face and Remus saw him quail visibly before mumbling hastily, "no. No, no. Nothing new."

"Are you alright?" Remus asked him in concern. "You look spent."

"J-j-just overworked, I g-guess," stammered Peter, attempting to appear casual. "Haven't been s-sleeping that w-well lately either." 

Indeed, Remus saw his friend had rather large dark circles under his eyes. He wondered if there was anything more which would have contributed to Wormtail's pale, drained appearance besides overtime and the cold weather, but decided to not push it for now.

Lily excused herself to prepare the turkey filling and sherry trifle for the following day as James entered the living room and handed Peter his butterbeer. Wormtail gulped down the steaming, frothing honeyed drink in gusto, and was soon warmed up enough to stop his teeth from making a clattering noise. 

The four Marauders started up a lively conversation, and were soon joined by Lily who had finished her preparations in the kitchen. Banter continued into the early hours of the morning where they finally turned in at the prompting of a multitude of prolonged yawns, accompanied by the sight of Peter's slumped figure in an armchair, his eyelids drooping, his head toppling forwards onto his chest with a trickle of dribble just leaking out from the corner of his mouth.

"C'mon Wormtail," called Sirius, shaking his slumbering friend rather roughly in the shoulder. "Time for bed!"

Peter grunted gutturally before snapping his eyes wide open. With a sudden alacrity, he leapt to his feet, whipped out his wand and cried out,

"Incendio!"

Remus leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being hit by the jet of coloured light that erupted from Peter's wand. The lamp sitting on the coffee table absorbed the spell instead, bursting ferociously into flames before spontaneously combusting, leaving behind its charred metal frame, smouldering amidst a plume of teeming smoke.

Shaken, Remus tried not to think of what might have happened.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Sirius, taking a leap back, alarmed. "What was all that for?"

Peter blinked, looking confused. His eyes rested on the incinerated lampshade and the colour on his face oscillated from chalk-white to pillar box-red. 

"E-e-errrr, s-s-orry!" he stuttered out, still seemingly trying to work out what he had just done.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Umm. … Er, what?" Peter fumbled about distractedly.

James rolled his eyes. "Wormtail, you just blew up Mrs Evans' favourite lamp," he said slowly and deliberately, emphasising each syllable of the sentence. "And if Moony here didn't have quicker reflexes, it would have been one of my favourite people."

"Do you make it a habit of hexing anyone who tries to wake you up?" asked Remus mildly.

Peter rubbed his temples vigorously. "No. N-no, of c-course not. It was j-just a nightmare. Sorry." He still looked slightly perturbed.

Sirius frowned. "Some kind of nightmare you are having," he commented. 

"It was… Acromantulas," gabbled Peter hurriedly. "I-I was trying to get rid of them."

"Ah," Sirius acknowledged. "Anyway, I was waking you up to get you into a bed. Do you want the guest room bed or the couch?"

Peter glanced towards the sofa that was positioned across one length of the living room, three feet away from where he stood. Then he peered out the doorway and up the flight of stairs which led to the first floor where the guest room was. It was obvious to all where he preferred to sleep.

Ten minutes later, Remus and Sirius made their way up the stairs to the guest room which housed a bunk bed, leaving Peter going back to being dead to the world on the couch downstairs.

Remus woke the next morning, blinking at the sudden sunlight which flooded the room. Cranking his neck towards the window, he saw Sirius tugging at the curtains and tying them back at each side of the window.  

"Merry Christmas Moony! Rise and shine!"

Remus groaned inwardly. If there had been any day he could have had a lie-in….

"What time is it?" he mumbled groggily, feeling as though he'd dropped off to sleep just a few minutes before.

"Nearly ten," answered Sirius cheerily. 

Clanking sounds from the kitchen downstairs informed Remus that Lily must already be up and about, and the aroma of herbs and spices wafting up the stairs told him that she must be in the throes of cooking the Christmas lunch. 

Remus headed into the kitchen a quarter of an hour later to offer his culinary services and immediately found himself handed a towering mound of potatoes in a huge ceramic bowl. He surreptitiously helped himself to several inviting-looking chipolata sausages on a nearby plate as he got down to mashing the potatoes. That was until Lily caught on and removed the temptation out of sight.

Christmas lunch was a delightful affair, with spirited conversation carrying over the delicious cooking, though Remus noticed yet again, that Peter appeared lacklustre and less talkative than usual. He wondered a bit about that, though argued with himself that the small wizard was just reaping the effects of months of overtime.

There were four courses that meal: a melon starter, followed by bowls of thick steaming vegetable soup. The main course consisted of succulent roast turkey, with its traditional stuffing; mounds of potatoes, both roasted and mashed; boiled carrots, celery, Brussell sprouts, broccoli and cauliflower; all smothered with thick juicy gravy and richly-flavoured cranberry sauce. By the time dessert rolled around, those who had taken third helpings of everything thus far – which was everyone – were loosening their belts and waistbands underneath the table. But there was no way any of them would be refusing the sherry trifle with its dollop of freshly whipped cream.

As the last crumbs of sponge cake were consumed, and the final droplets of whipped cream were lapped up, James and Lily exchanged glances, a shared smile and nodded before standing up together.

James cleared his throat. "Now that you have been fed and watered," he began earnestly, sounding to Remus very much like Professor Dumbledore at the welcome feasts at the start of each year. "Lily and I have an announcement to make." 

He gazed steadfastly at his friends. "Lily," he paused and took a deep breath for dramatic effect. "is two months along."

This was followed by first a confused, then a stunned, silence. Sirius found his voice first.

"Prongs! Lily! This is fabulous! Is it a boy or a girl? When is it due? When did you find out? Have you picked out names yet? Who else have you told?"

Lily laughed as she tried to answer his barrage of questions. 

"We don't know yet whether it's a boy or a girl. It's due towards the end of July."

"We only found out yesterday morning," James injected eagerly. "Lily insisted for tests to be done by a Muggle doctor…"

"So we went to Guy's Hospital in London," Lily finished for him. "So far both our parents know. And now you."

"Congratulations to both of you," Remus smiled sincerely. "I never thought I would live to see the day you would be a father, Prongs," he continued, sneaking an impish grin in Lily's direction. "You would teach your child so many roguish habits. Let it get away with just about anything."

"Yeah," agreed Sirius. "You might even be helping to make up excuses for him…" 

"Or her," inserted Lily.

"When he, or she, gets caught by McGonagall at Hogwarts."

"Our child would get accepted right?" James checked anxiously with the others sat before him.

"Of course!" scoffed Sirius. "I can almost see that magical quill now, writing down the name of your child on that honour roll at Hogwarts seven months down the line."

James relaxed and grinned with relief. They all then turned to Peter, who had remained wordless up till then.

"Y-y-you are p-pregnant?" Wormtail gasped out finally, flabbergasted.

There was a moment's quiet, and then the other four burst out laughing, even Peter grinned sheepishly. 

"You'll be an uncle then, Wormtail," said Sirius jovially, clapping a heavy hand on Peter's shoulder. "In a manner of speaking."

*

Remus returned to his Edinburgh home that afternoon swathed in a warm, cosy feel, and he knew had he encountered anyone in the streets, they would have caught sight of a stupidly dreamy smile spread across his face. He was so thrilled for James and Lily. They had the perfect life, at least in his mind – an intimate, loving relationship; respectable jobs where they earned steady (and very enviable) incomes; a beautiful cosy home; and now the joy of starting a family, a child to complete the previously already ideal picture. It couldn't get much better really.

Remus Apparated several hundred yards away from his house, having slightly misjudged the distance due to his thoughts still being centred around the pregnancy news. Realising, he scolded himself for not being more attentive. You could've splinched yourself! That would have been very painful indeed.

He ambled along the path that led up to his house, and had just disabled the last of the wards surrounding it when a black piece of cloth was clamped roughly over his mouth. Before he could even fight back, a wave of chloroform engulfed him and caused him to suddenly go very light-headed. He felt himself being dragged several feet. A jolting sensation of being yanked forwards in the navel was the last thing he was aware of before blacking out.

*

When Remus blearily regained his consciousness, he found himself in what appeared to be a deep forest. Gigantic trees loomed overhead, ominous and sinister, masking from the ground what feeble light the pale, shimmering moon cast overhead. Through his blurred vision, he registered the presence of several masked figures milling about outside a deserted shack, so rickety it looked as if the slightest gust of wind would reduce it to a rubble. 

_Death Eaters._

The blood in his veins turned to ice. His limbs suddenly felt like lead, and the acid in his stomach churned nauseatingly as the situation he had been thrown into sank in.

Keeping still, Remus observed the matters around him. He was surrounded in a misshapen circle by no less than ten Death Eaters. Although this was the first time Remus had attended what appeared to be a meeting of Voldemort's inner circle, the air was so saturated with Dark Magic and foreboding that Remus could almost taste every nuance of their intent and emotion. The tension in the air among the Death Eaters was so palpable, it could be sliced with a knife. The sense of antagonism among them so thick, it was suffocating. Vicious scrutiny and a thirst for power was so eminent, it rippled through the atmosphere. It was a web of greed, egoism, forced formality and cold-blooded cruelty, where trust, compassion and understanding were foreign entities. 

Remus involuntarily gave a violent shiver at the frostiness of his surroundings. The sudden movement caught the attention of his captors, and Remus quailed as ten pairs of eyed fixed themselves upon him.

"Welcome, Mr Lupin," said one of the Death Eaters. Remus didn't recognise the voice – not that he had thought he would. The voice was decidedly male however. "Welcome to the Supporters of the True Cause."

Despite the chilling predicament he was in, Remus couldn't stifle a cynical snort. True Cause?

There was a stony silence as the Death Eaters observed him with heightened distaste. Remus reminded himself to remain impassive if he hoped to escape from there alive.

"Mr. Lupin," began the same Death Eater once more. "We understand that you are a Dark Creature who would be most useful to us, who would be much appreciated by the Dark Lord."

The chloroform must have befuddled his brain more than he had thought. The Dark Lord appreciate him?

"You are a werewolf, is that not true?" snapped a second Death Eater, standing three places down the left of the first who spoke. 

A gasp rose from those gathered round the clearing. Remus' mouth suddenly went very dry. He ran his tongue over the parched lips and croaked a quiet answer in the affirmative.

A rush of murmurs undulated the circle, translating a mounting fusion of both wonder and apprehension.

The first Death Eater turned to the one who had just spoken.

"You were indeed correct, Snape," he said. "Thank you."

Snape? Severus Snape?

It shouldn't have come as a surprise really, Remus guessed. He and his friends had always said that the former Slytherin would end up assisting the Dark Side. And they were not the only ones who harboured this notion. Still, it was somewhat disconcerting to personally face the fact in real life. Nothing hits it home as brutally as being confronted with reality.

"We have the pleasure to extend an invitation to you in which we would like you to accept, werewolf."

The Death Eater's tone, although devoid of any trace of fear or disgust, was knitted with contemptuous superiority.

Remus took in the breadth of opinions exuded by his captors, which spanned from dread to hatred to condescension, all generated through centuries of bigotry. Surprisingly, he felt none of the self-loathing that usually accompanied these thoughts being directed at him. He found that he in truth did not care what these minions thought of him. He did not possess the respect for them to care.

"Whatever it is, I assure you the answer is no," he replied, as firmly as he could given his weakened state.

There was a pregnant silence. 

"The Dark Lord requests that you would join our ranks in supporting his cause." 

The Death Eater's glacial voice sliced in, so chilling it almost left a trace of frost lingering in the night air. It was a command, not an offer. 

"Never."

Remus could almost hear the sharp intake of air from the Death Eaters in response to his obdurate reply. He then heard the same cold voice ring out,

"Imperio!"

At once, Remus experienced the most wondrous feeling. The haziness and confusion caused by the chloroform and the abrupt change in location lifted off him. The disturbing fact that he was surrounded by Voldemort's inner circle was gently wiped away. He felt the happiest he had been in quite some time. Now, if he could just revel in this blissful vagueness for a while….

Say yes…. Say yes…

Yes? Why, of course. Why not?

You don't want to do that, a voice warned, probing its way through the recesses of his mind.

I don't?

Answer yes, Lupin. You know you want to. Just say yes.

Yes to what exactly?

Yes to alleviate all of your current problems. Yes to being accepted.

Being accepted? Indeed, then yes it should be…

It is a trick! A trap! Don't give in to it. It sounds too easy…

Well, okay, no then. No…

Say yes, werewolf! You are classified as a Dark Creature by law. Loathed and rejected by the Light Side; feared and shunned by the general population. Yet you shall find acceptance among us. Recognition. Support. Reverence. 

Reverence? Support? Acceptance. Thank you, I shall…

But what about Sirius? And Peter? James and Lily? Not all harbour the bigotry against werewolves. There are others who see through the cloud of ignorance. Those who take the time to care. Dumbledore….

Say YES Dark Creature! Yes! YES! **YES! **Say yes to power!

No, thank you. I don't think it is necessary. I do not crave power….

Say yes to being at the forefront of fighting for the True Cause! Yes to end the era of human weakness caused by the infiltration of Mudbloods.

Mudbloods? 

The offensive word rudely jolted Remus out of his trance. The mere use of such a word betrayed the darkness and hatred that lay within the faction. No longer was Remus enticed by the lure of promises, the whispering of sweet nothings into his mind.

No. I refuse. NO, I said!

Remus felt a ripping sensation shooting up through his throat. He realised that he had shouted out the last sentence.

Another stunned silence such as the one beforehand followed. The lead Death Eater seemed to be assessing Remus, engrossed in deep thought. He then lifted his wand.

"Crucio!" he hissed softly.

A spasm of pain hit Remus and he crumpled to a heap on the sodden, earthy ground. The millions of sharp pinpricks he felt all over his skin rapidly increased in intensity, until it seemed as if he was being branded with rods upon rods of white-hot pokers, mercilessly lashing against his body. The pressure inside his head built up to intolerable levels and he felt as if it would burst from the strain. He could barely register the callous laughter coming from the observers, entertained by the ruthless spectacle. 

Jagged knives now appeared to be tearing through his flesh, accompanied by the shattering of several ribs. Remus screamed and writhed desperately on the moist grass, mud smearing onto his robes, his face, in his hair and into his eyes. His throat was raw and dry from his shrieking. The cries of pain and terror reverberated through the air, but sounded oddly distant. He prayed for it to end soon. Whichever way. At several points throughout the torture, he was driven to the point of begging for mercy. It was only the presence of a sliver of sanity during the torment that prevented him from doing so. Pleading for mercy would be a sign of weakness, a sign of vulnerability in which the Death Eaters could exploit. 

Remus would rather die than to swell Voldemort's ranks. He would rather be killed than to betray the Light Side.

The blinding pain vanished. Remus forced his eyes open to see that the Death Eater had lifted his wand off him for the time being. 

"The Dark Lord desires for your acceptance into his circle," he demanded once more.

Remus gathered as much strength as he could before returning the man's unbroken stare.

"You can tell the Dark Lord that I staunchly repudiate to acquiesce to his request."

Another spasm of pain hit him. This time, more intense than the first. It was pure, undiluted pain. Dealt by one who thrived on seeing the suffering of others. Remus gasped as wave upon wave of agony surged through him. He tried to block it out, as he did when he dealt with his monthly transformations. But that pain was no match for this. He silently begged to be killed, his mind still firmly refusing the invitation being extended.

"It's no use," came the cold voice. "He is stubborn as a mule."

The pain lifted off Remus once more. He found his eyes watering from the pain, his body so weak and drained he could barely lift his head off the ground. 

A thick cloud of black, swirling smoke was floating towards him. Remus stiffened and held his breathe, summoning the very last wisps of his reserves to repel the vapour, to impede its penetration into his skull. 

"Interesting," observed the lead Death Eater. "Take him back," he ordered the others almost lazily. 

Remus felt himself manhandled roughly to the edge of the clearing. A tug at his navel told him he was being transported via a Portkey. Upon arrival at the other side, he saw his own house looming up before him. The two Death Eaters who had accompanied him dragged him up to the driveway and unceremoniously deposited him in a heap just inside the front door before Disapparating.

It was a good half of an hour before Remus could pull himself up off the cold floorboards and sink into the sofa in the living room. His mind was a hurricane of thoughts and emotions. 

First and foremost of those was the sinking acknowledgement that he had been rooted out personally to be recruited by the Dark Lord. That Voldemort and his ring of Death Eaters knew of his secret and its vulnerability was worrying. 

Second, he felt an inordinate amount of shame to have been offered the invitation, even though Remus knew he had done nothing to instigate it. Voldemort simply does not go round to supporters of the Light Side and request them to change the direction of their loyalties. Was there really something within Remus that Voldemort saw that was so worthy of his interest? Was being a Dark Creature what Remus actually was about, and his human façade was just a show? Was there something which the Dark Lord could see, but even Remus himself could not?

Those thoughts whirled uneasily round Remus' mind despite him trying his best to argue against them. 

Lastly, Remus thought of James and Lily, and their upcoming addition to the family. They really were such a perfect family, he thought, thinking back to the announcement the couple had made earlier on in the day (it seemed like a century ago now). So much joy and love and happiness. It wouldn't do to have it thwarted. If the Death Eaters captured him again… if they used the Imperius and the Cruciatus curse on him again… if Remus' defences broke down from the incessant torture and he spilt information regarding his friends or the Order without knowing it…. if Voldemort himself performed Legilimency on him….

It simply wouldn't do.

Remus then made the conscious decision to detach himself from the rest. He couldn't afford to be a liability to the Order. He couldn't afford to be a danger to an unborn child. He would gradually extract himself from being the recipient of the current state of affairs within Dumbledore's circle. Therefore, should he be captured and tortured again, he would not be able to supply the information relating to Voldemort's resistance should they begin to interrogate him.

And with that, Remus planned how the best way to surreptitiously distance himself from those he worked for and the cause he fully believed in.

~ * ~


End file.
